


Mario's Greatest Idea

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Boys In Love, Captain/Team Dad Fips, Crack, Drunken Shenanigans, Everyone Is Gay, M/M, Mention of Preferred Sexual Positions, Party Games, Pining, Ships listed in order of appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: Mario Gómez hosts his retirement-from-the-national-team party. Except there's a twist.





	Mario's Greatest Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevdepayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevdepayne/gifts).



> First of all, EXCUSE THE LENGTHY TAGS! Writing group fic is really quite annoying in some points.  
> Second of all, I had quite a lot of fun writing from Fips' POV, might do that again. And Kromez! My little crackship, finally taking flight :')
> 
> Anyway, this is based on an actual picture Sevde found on Twitter. Sadly neither of us is able to find it anymore, but it showed the cups Mario will offer his guests at the party – including the labels.
> 
> Have fun!

Why Mario thought scheduling his retirement-from-the-national-team party right before the start of the season was a good idea, no one knew. Especially because the actual event resembled an American college frat party.

That the attendance was limited to former and current national team players and their plus ones (who had, per invitation, also to be male and football players) didn’t help either. Philipp had, of course, been sensible and decided to come on his own. Well, technically, he came together with Miro who he’d picked up on the way.

They arrived early, but apparently, everyone else had had the same idea. Or at least, the Bayern part of the squad did.

As Philipp walked up to Mario’s house, Miro trailing shortly behind him, he could see Thomas, Manuel, Mats and Josh together with Niklas, Sebastian and Leon crowding in front of his door.

“Can’t we just ring the bell again?” he heard someone ask, to which Manuel replied “well it doesn’t matter when he doesn’t answer!” in quite an impatient manner.

Philipp cleared his throat. “Boys! Is everything alright?”

“Fips!” it was Manu who first rushed to hug him, hugging his predecessor with quite the enthusiasm, just as Thomas knocked on the door once more. He almost stumbled over his own feet when suddenly, it was opened from the inside.

Mario peeked out his head, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Well if you guys are already this rambunctious before it even started, this party is going to be a blast. Come on in!”

“Why didn’t you answer the door?” Joshua asked as the others scrambled through the door, but Mario only shrugged.

“Still had a couple things to prepare, Through here, please.”

Mario’s living room had been completely transformed. It was huge, and currently bare of any furniture except for a couple couches placed alongside the wall and one big buffet table on the other side of the room. There was even an old-school disco ball that was reflecting the light of the multi-coloured spotlights that’d been put up.

Suddenly and uncomfortably, Philipp felt reminded of the few school parties he’d had to attend in obligation to his youth teammates when he’d rather have caught up on his reading at home.

It’s not like he’d found them exciting, but somehow, it was expected of you to turn up to them. Especially when you wanted to be popular. And while Philipp had never particularly cared about popularity, he had cared about influence. And you didn’t get influence when you weren’t popular. So he’d suffered through countless house parties, claimed his water was vodka and had become really good at noticing who was getting up to the most trouble that night. (Not to get blackmail material, though. Of course not.)

Knowing Mario, he likely hadn’t done the decorating himself, and either left it to professionals or had his friends do it for him.

But as his grin grew as he directed them to the buffet table, that was set up with bowls of snacks, several bottles of wine and a giant beer keg, Philipp realized that this most definitely had been his own idea.

“I thought we’d mix it up a bit. And to make the party a bit more fun … well, I saw this on the internet. And I thought ‘why not try this with the weirdest and probably queerest bunch of people I know?’ So.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest with a satisfied smirk, “help yourselves.”

And then, Mario sauntered off to turn on the music before rushing to the door again to let in more of his guests.

He had been talking about the cups, Philipp knew, but for a second, he didn’t know what exactly Mario had meant. There were three different kinds, and they were labelled with vers (black), top (purple) and bottom (orange) respectively. Judging by the fact how Manuel’s face changed colour very rapidly, it must have been something quite embarrassing. Next to him, Thomas let out a cackle as he picked up a purple cup, tossing it in his hands, before reaching for an orange one as well and handing it to Manu, who accepted it looking about as red as a tomato as Thomas snaked an arm around his waist.

Philipp raised an eyebrow. The fact that their relationship had developed right under his eyes and he still managed to miss it until they finally told him when he retired, adding yet another shade of doubt to his worries concerning handing them the capitancy, still annoyed him, but he had to admit they were sort of cute together.

And not nearly as obnoxious as other couples he had played with. Speaking of obnoxiously cheesy, Benedikt had just arrived, smiling widely as Mats all but leaped into his open arms, catching him with a delighted laugh.

Turning his attention back to the snacks and drinks table with a subtle eye roll, Philipp noticed Joshua hesitating, before finally reaching for a black cup. So did Rudy, quickly followed by an slightly blushing Niklas who did the same. Causing Goretzka, hovering behind the rest of them, to mutter “vers my ass Süle, don’t cheat.” Then Leon swiftly grabbed a black cup before heading over to one of the sofas, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“Jeez,” Thomas shook his head with in amusement, “who rained on his parade?” When no one answered, he simply shrugged and followed Manu, who had already poured his first beer and was now heading to sit down as well.

As it now was just the two of them, Miro blinked. “What just happened?”

Philipp shrugged. “Who even knows. C’mon, let’s go find some real glasses.” He could swear he heard Miro mumble “kids these days” as they made their way to the kitchen.

 

An few hours later, the room was packed. Roughly forty players had been invited, and counting their plus ones, there were maybe about fifty people in the room. Youngsters, seasoned players and retirees alike, they were bobbing their heads to the music or in some cases, getting blackout drunk.

And with some cases, Philipp meant Manuel. He carefully sipped at his glass of water as he observed the goalkeeper slumping down on one of the sofas, quite literally glued to Thomas’ side as he clutched his hand with reckless abandon, downing what must be already his fifth or sixth beer.

He saw Thomas smiling softly and asking “babe, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”, gently prying the orange cup away from Manu’s fingers, setting it down on the ground instead.

Philipp furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s the big deal with the cups anyway?” he asked no one in particular, not able to make sense of why most of the people in this room seemed either delighted or distressed by having to take a pick in between the different colours.

“Don’t you know? Hi, by the way!” Per. Philipp hadn’t even known he’d come. He was grinning down at him. Even after all those years it was still a bit annoying, how much he had to tilt his head to look into his friend’s eyes. His cup was orange, Philipp noticed, and looking around the room, Per seemed to earn quite a few strange looks for it.

“Hello, old friend. No, please, explain.”

Per smirked. “You know how most of our teammates are some sort of not-straight?”

Philipp nodded. This was common knowledge, at least when you paid a bit of attention and weren’t completely oblivious. Or a coach, in front of whom most people knew how to hide the fact that they’re either head over heels for or banging one (or several) of their teammates.

“Well.” Per took a sip out of his cup before pointing at it with a grin. “This means that if I had something going on with a guy, I’d prefer to … well, to be frank, get fucked.”

Philipp gaped at him. “You – what?” Per, the traitor, only burst out into laughter.

“Gosh, you should see your face! I’m not even into men, you should know that by now, but I admit it’s fun having everyone gawk at me.” He assumed a slightly more serious face again before continuing, “purple then of course means you prefer to do the fucking yourself, and black is for those who don’t mind either way.”

As the information started to seep into Philipp’s brain, quite a lot of scenes he’d observed over the past few hours started to make sense. Including Manuel, who seemed to blush furiously and then drown his embarrassment in beer every time someone looked at his orange cup and grinned knowingly.

Taking in the way Thomas looked lounging next to him with an air of great satisfaction, it did in fact seem like a logical explanation of their behaviour. Even if it was slightly more than he ever wanted to know about his friends.

Or about anyone present, really.

As he let his gaze roam over the room, Philipp noticed that the ones with the black cups generally seemed to be the least tense group. Well, apart from Leno and ter Stegen, who had retreated to a corner, glaring at each other while apparently also holding hands. They were a strange couple, those two, but then again, goalkeepers had never been the most normal people to start with.

Rudy and Süle were sitting on the ground. Niklas seemed a bit tipsy too, his head placed on Sebastian’s shoulder, a goofy smile on his lips, as the latter regarded him with an undeniable fondness. Benedikt had Mats pressed against a wall, and neither of them seemed bothered by the fact that Timo, Josh and the Julians were eyeing them with obvious curiosity.

All Julians apart from Draxler, at least, who had, at some point, disappeared with someone else’s hand in his, someone clutching a orange cup, complimenting Julian’s purple one – through the mass of the bodies, Philipp hadn’t really been able to see who it was, but letting his eyes flick over the attendees really quick, he thought it must have been Matze. Apart from them, everyone else was still present – save Bastian and Lukas, who had been absent for quite a while already of course, but everyone has gotten used to their shenanigans years ago, and if he was being honest, even if he was a naturally curious person, Philipp had no desire to know about _their_ bedroom dynamics, not when they were some of his oldest friends.

As for the others, there was Karius, talking to Emre, Leroy and a still grumpy-looking Leon while holding a cup in each of his hands – one black, one orange – claiming that he was “vers but a bottom for my boyfriend”; Erik delightedly sipping wine out of his orange cup; Kai Havertz sliding up closer and closer to Julian Brandt, who he’d come with, and Marco and Mario looking at each other and giggling every time their eyes met as if they were some kind of newlywed couple.

Some of the guests (the straight minority) seemed quite happy with the glasses Miro and Philipp had produced from the kitchen, bust mostly, everyone seemed to have forgotten about the not-so-secret code of the plastic cups.

Except that, on the other side of the room, by himself but under constant observance, there was Toni, who was sipping what looked like coke out of – was that a bowl? – as Mario (their host, who of course had from the start of the night been clutching a special golden cup – “this is my party, after all”) kept looking at him every five seconds with badly-concealed interest. Philipp wasn’t sure if Toni had noticed. He must have, he was quite an observant person, but probably, he just decided just to act as if he doesn’t notice. Philipp was fond of Mario, he was a good guy, but he was also a notorious philanderer, fond of hitting on everyone who was averagely good-looking, never mind what was between their legs.

Philipp grinned. Oh Mario, he was going to have a tough time with this one.

All in all, it seemed like a perfectly normal, if slightly more inebriated night with Germany’s national team. At least until a completely wasted Manuel Neuer tried to stand up and knocked over the entire snack table with the united strength of his left thigh.

Someone cried out “MANUEL!” in shock as Manu just blinked at the mess he’d produced, gaping slightly, only reaction when Thomas shot up to hold him steady, murmuring “easy, big boy” as he lead him away from the shards.

Marco groaned about Manu ruining the fun, but still, no one made a move to clean up the mess. Except that then, Toni let out a sigh from his spot on the wall, pushing through the rest of the boys, picking up some intact plates and starting to pile some mashed-up avocado-toast pieces mixed with shards onto it before heading to the kitchen as the masses parted for him.

Their host blinked after him in quiet astonishment. And suddenly, Philipp wasn’t sure anymore if his interest in the stoic blond was exclusively sexual, or if there might have been something more. And as Mario rushed after him, he couldn’t help but finding himself root for them.

Someone had turned off the music, and slowly, people started trailing out of the room, most couples hand in hand or with an arm around each other. Manuel looked like he might throw up, but was soothed by Thomas’ hand rubbing his neck. Mats and Benni let go of each other for long enough that they can put on their coats. Somehow, everyone seemed to wait for Mario to return, but even after fifteen minutes and everyone already in their shoes, he was nowhere to be seen.

Philipp sighed. As usual, stuff like this fell back on him. He might be retired, but most of these kids regarded him as their captain, as the highest instance in the room, never mind if they’d even played with him or not.

“I’m sure Mario appreciated you all coming. It’s getting late, be careful, don’t drive when you’re too inebriated. Have a good night, guys.”

And slowly, as if a few calm words were everything they'd needed as confirmations, the boys started nodding their goodbyes one by one. Miro graced him with a small smile and an appreciative nod as he was the second to last to walk out the front door.

“Well said, Captain.”

Philipp only rolled his eyes once more.

 

Back in the kitchen, Mario and Toni were still washing up the dirty glasses, cups and plates the boys had deposited in the sink and on the counter over the course of the night.

They didn’t talk, but there was a comfortableness to their silence, Mario found. Toni looked stern under the harsh kitchen light, but it brought out the angles of his jawline, too, highlighting his cheekbones and his elegant nose.

He was beautiful, Mario noticed not for the first time. At first, back when they first met, Toni had been a pretty boy like any other person in his row of achievements, like any other man or woman he’d get into his bed. But then, he hadn’t even blinked at any of his advances, and after a couple months they’d shared at Bayern, Mario had given up.

But somehow, the unattainability or Toni Kroos had only made him more attractive, and while he’d had known it was for naught, over the years, Mario had gotten more and more fixated on him.

And now, eight years later, he was undeniably, irrevocably in love with him.

Sure, he’d never given up his playboy vibes, hadn’t found anyone it would be worth it for. No one, except Toni.

And now, standing in his kitchen after the failed end of what Mario himself would call a pretty great party, was the first time he dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of hope for them after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

>   * Yes, this whole thing also served as a slight build-up to the Kromez fic I intend to write one day. I don't know when exactly I started shipping them, but I fully blame D for it.
>   * There were many more players in attention that I didn't mention - but that would have been too much, just like I didn't mention _everyone's_ cup of choice
>   * And speaking of cups - not everyone picked the cup that actually describes them, just saying (some also are too young and/or inexperienced to properly _know_ either)
>   * Leon was grumpy because he'd had an argument with Max and Max as such refused to attend the party. Sucks
>   * I'm truly sorry for giving Neuller such a big platform in pretty much everything I write ajshkajs
>   * Yeah, I think that's it!
>   * I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way
> 

> 
> Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/)


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